


Friends

by FreeShavocadoo



Category: HiGH&LOW (Movies), HiGH&LOW: the Story of S.W.O.R.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character introspections, Fluff, Multi, Possible Relationships - Freeform, friendships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 03:28:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15428028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreeShavocadoo/pseuds/FreeShavocadoo
Summary: Hiroto struggles with the aftermath of the defeat of the Kuryu group, finding himself more isolated than ever. In the process, he finds friendship in the unlikeliest of places.





	1. Chapter 1

It had never been easy for Hiroto to make friends.

Most things in a life that was led by fighting was bound to come with difficulties and heartbreak, yet Hiroto always found himself caught up in the feeling that something was lacking. The only people who had ever made an effort with him were Takeru and Masaki and to Hiroto, the prospect that his two only friends were his brothers was pathetic.

 _One friend,_ he corrects himself. _You only have one brother now._

Years of moving around place to place just made the differences between Hiroto and his brother more evident. Where Hiroto was content to sit at home at the end of the day, locked up in his room and his thoughts, Masaki enjoyed staying out and drinking, seeking the company of anyone who wanted to spend time with him. Which, Hiroto notes, tends to be almost everyone. Whatever infectious personality trait his brother had been gifted with that drew people so easily to him had definitely skipped over Hiroto, though Hiroto assumes this was one of the many outcomes of being adopted. Never feeling wanted, always feeling like more of a liability and an annoyance. He knows deep down Masaki loves him unconditionally as a brother should, as he loves Masaki this way too, but it doesn’t stop the thoughts from plaguing him when he’s staring at the ceiling at night wondering why he just can’t seem to be a permanent fixture in anyone else’s life.

Being embroiled in sword’s fighting was a temporary reprieve, with a myriad of new faces to somewhat distract Hiroto from the aching in his chest and the feeling of loneliness that just seemed to follow him to the ends of the earth. It brought him some comfort that these people had flocked to help when he and Masaki had asked, bringing more questions than answers with a pen drive that would inevitably change all of their lives. Sannoh Rengokai was an environment with close familial and friendship bonds, which Hiroto could both appreciate and be completely jealous of. Their dedication to keeping each other and their home safe made the cynical part of him want to tell them that it was pointless, that people always die and there’s no way to ever cover up that kind of pain, but all he can really do is just nod and move along. Cobra, however, doesn’t seem content to let him pass through so quickly without further conversation most of the time. One day he pulls Hiroto to the side in Itokan, motioning for him to sit beside him at his table.

“You seem sad.” He murmurs, frank as ever. If there’s one thing Hiroto has complete respect for when it comes to Cobra it is his honesty and empathy, never content to just ‘leave things be’ if there was a possibility to do it better or create a better outcome. Still. Hiroto has never been one to enjoy sharing his feelings.

“Oh?” Hiroto raises his eyebrow, crossing one leg over the other to stop his foot from tapping. Cobra’s eyes seem to stare right through him.

“It’s difficult, isn’t it?” He muses, staring over at the wall where all of the pictures were placed on a shelf, too many to count. “Deciding what to do with yourself when it’s all over? The fighting, I mean.”

“No, I don’t know what you mean.” Hiroto looks away, scowling, wondering why Cobra won’t just leave him be when it’s obvious he’s never in a mood to talk, to share.

 _Maybe that’s why nobody wants to be around you_ , he thinks.

“Right.” The look Cobra gives him couldn’t make it clearer he knows Hiroto is lying, but he doesn’t heavily press the matter or bring it up. “You should come around more often, I think Kohaku and Tsukumo like having you around.”

“Sure they do,” Hiroto scoffs, shaking his head, “considering how much trouble they cause between them both, I would have to decline for the sake of my own wellbeing.”

“I can’t disagree. Then again, you’d be hard pressed to find anyone around here who isn’t a threat to their own and others wellbeing.” Cobra replies, offering a small smile. “I won’t make you stay. Just know you’re welcome to come here whenever you like.”

“Noted.” Hiroto stands, quickly putting on his sunglasses, eager to rush out of the door before he’s accosted, not wanting to be seen flustered. He doesn’t know why he’s so bothered at the prospect of being invited back or why the simple gesture makes him so uncomfortable, but it does and he wants nothing to do with it.

Just as he’s getting onto his motorcycle, Kohaku rounds the corner, looking as impassive as ever. His eyes land on Hiroto and for a brief moment, Hiroto feels uncomfortable, the silver blue eye seeming to bore through his skull. Kohaku nods.

“Running off so quickly?” He asks, his voice gruff. Hiroto takes a moment to realise that he’s now got short hair again, no tangled mess obscuring his eyes and thick stubble. He’s relatively put together. Hiroto wonders if it’s because sword is now safe or if it’s something much deeper.

“I wasn’t aware I had to stay for a certain amount of time.” Hiroto can’t help how snarky he is, most of the time, though he’s thankful that Kohaku seems to be able to handle it relatively well, if not just being completely amused by it.

“Stop being such a baby.” He laughs, shaking his head. He nudges Hiroto’s shoulder gently and for one moment Hiroto is flooded with nostalgia, of summers spent on the back of Takeru’s banged up motorcycle when they were younger, the smoke billowing behind them, Takeru’s laughter so infectious Hiroto couldn’t bear the thought of not laughing with his aniki. The feeling hits him right in the gut, so simple but so affectionate that it’s almost overwhelming.

“Hey,” Kohaku leans down in front of him, concerned, “Hiroto.”

Hiroto tries to open his mouth but chooses instead to keep it shut, just shaking his head and then nodding because he has no idea what the hell he’s doing, why the hell everything hurts so much and why such a stupid small gesture has set him off so easily.

“It’s okay.” Kohaku voice is calm, soothing. Hiroto lets himself be swept up in it for a moment, letting himself drift into the prospect that someone other than Masaki cares about him. Kohaku hugs him, so naturally that Hiroto can tell it must be the way he hugs Cobra and Yamato which just makes his head hurt even more. So he allows himself to be hugged, to feel someone’s reassuring hand rub down his back, to be vulnerable.

“I’m fine.” Hiroto’s voice is weaker than usual, but Kohaku says nothing, just nodding and moving away. Hiroto can appreciate that Kohaku knows when to give space and when to move in. In a way he wonders if he and Kohaku share a lot more similarities than he would be willing to admit, but he pushes the thought down.

“Right. Well next time you’re in the area drop by. It’d be nice to go on a long bike journey sometime, it’s been a while since I have.” He nods and walks into Itokan, just like that.

Hiroto debates the notion before going home, wondering if this is one of the moments where he should be careful in making his decision.

 

* * *

 

 

The docks are somewhat of a comfort to Hiroto nowadays, tending to be relatively quiet and far removed enough that there weren’t many people walking around and triggering his paranoia. From here if he turns to his right he can see all of the shacks and put together from nothing homes, built near the poorer side of the docks for families that made their money seasonally, if at all. The kids seem relatively unconcerned, running around in the distance laughing. Hiroto wonders when that kind of energy left him entirely, the ability to just be happy regardless of circumstance.

“You again.” The voice is familiar, but not enough that Hiroto knows who it is without turning around to confirm it. When he does, he has to take a second glance up and down before recognition hits.

“Oh, it’s you.” He replies, shaking his head. He supposes it’s hardly surprising he wouldn’t recognise the leader of the Mighty Warriors, having only encountered him what seems like a lifetime ago, back when Kohaku was leading the charge against sword. Now, he looks different. His hair is shorter, platinum blonde. His clothes as usual leave Hiroto wondering what exactly constituted as fashion anymore, even though in the back of his mind he can’t help but think it kind of suits him a little bit. Even though it’s cold, he’s absent a jacket, wearing a thin t-shirt with all of his arm tattoos on display.

“What exactly are you doin’ all the way out here?” Ice sits beside him, so casually and comfortably that Hiroto has to push down the urge to shuffle away from him, wondering why he’s acting so familiar.

“What’s it to you?” Hiroto scowls, looking again into the distance, the children being ushered from the cold into houses that Hiroto doesn’t doubt are much better than just standing outside. The thought makes him hurt a little. Ice’s gaze seems to mirror his own, his expression unreadable.

“Shit way to live.” He states dryly, lacking the usual playful tone, his expression hardening. It’s then that Hiroto realises that Ice most likely grew up in that exact area, or at least an identical one, which probably explains why he’s here.

“I guess.” Hiroto isn’t sure how to reply, or even sure why he’s having this conversation. The last time he’d spoken to this man he was trying to punch his teeth out, even if he had thought it was interesting at the time to meet someone so eager to fight him. He supposes it’s the challenges that he enjoys most, always seeking out things that will make him feel more alive.

“Shit, man,” Ice laughs, unabashed and loud but in the best way possible, Hiroto thinks, “you remind me of someone I know.”

“Well considering the company you keep, I’m not sure if that should be considered an insult or not.” Hiroto replies, narrowing his eyes, wondering why Ice seems so unbothered by his glares and snarky tone.

“He’d say the same thing if I compared him to anyone too.” Ice’s eyes crinkle fondly, a small smile on his face. Hiroto wonders who exactly he’s talking about, to elicit this kind of softness and vulnerability from a man who was content to work with whoever gave him the most money. Not that Hiroto can particularly hold it against him, it was a more honest intention than some.

“Good to know.” Hiroto sighs, standing up and brushing himself down.

“Well, you got somewhere to be, pretty boy?” Ice stands up beside him, grinning.

“Why does it matter to you?” Hiroto makes his way over to his motorbike, shaking his head at how ludicrous this entire situation was.

“Well, you could spend the night actually doing somethin’ fun,” he pauses to grin wider, “instead of sitting on the docks and starin’ longingly at the sky.”

Hiroto wants to tell him to fuck off, almost immediately, but something stops him. Perhaps it’s the thought of being at home alone again, thinking about what everyone else is up to and why he’s doing the same shit over and over again. So, against every fibre in his beings will, he sits on the bike and motions with his head behind him, not making eye contact.

“Get on then and tell me where we’re going, before I change my mind.” Hiroto turns when Ice does immediately what he says, sitting behind him. His arms move around Hiroto’s waist without any discomfort or shifting around, letting Hiroto know that Ice is both entirely comfortable with his own masculinity and probably engages frequently in physical contact with others, unlike himself. Ice gives him the directions into his ear, directing him when needed. Even though the journey is relatively short, Hiroto already feels overwhelmed by the amount of contact and closeness, but Ice hops off with ease and waits for Hiroto to stand too.

“My house.” He smirks, motioning to the Funk Jungle with a proud look. Hiroto decides it’s probably not a good idea to laugh in his face and tell him it’s a shithole so he just nods and puts his sunglasses in his pocket.

Ice weaves easily through the crowd, his hand reaching back without his head even having to turn to grab onto Hiroto’s sleeve and pull him through the dancing club goers as well. Hiroto can barely even see his own feet so he allows Ice to direct him almost entirely, until they reach stairs and Ice lets him go, looking back to shoot him a smile.

“You good, darlin’?” He turns back around to reach the top of the stairs before looking back at Hiroto with an amused look.

“No, I’m not. Please help me.” Hiroto replies, sarcasm thick in his voice and evident on his unimpressed face. Ice sniggers and stands to the side to let Hiroto in through the doorway to a room full of couches and seats, most of them full of what Hiroto can only assume are the Mighty Warriors. They glance up, some more questioningly than others, but none of them say anything or seem overly aggressive.

“Sure you all remember Hiroto,” Ice walks in behind Hiroto, looking around at his guys, “he’ll be joinin’ us tonight so play nice.”

Thankfully, Ice sits down on the free couch and just gestures beside him, eliminating the awkwardness of Hiroto trying to decide where to sit and having to look at everyone in the process. He’s never felt particularly comfortable with eyes on him and now is no different. The space that was between him and Ice is now filled by someone who had moved so quickly, Hiroto had barely had time to register them.

“Hey!” His grin is wide and his eyes are warm and Hiroto is instantly aware of just how harmless he looks. “I’m Bernie!”

Hiroto nods awkwardly, not sure where to look, although Bernie seems relatively unaware of Hiroto’s internal conflicts at the moment. In the back of his mind he wants to snort when he thinks that this is definitely not who Ice could’ve been comparing him to. Though, he can’t help but find Bernie’s huge smile kind of endearing even if it is confusing.

“Don’t scare him off, Bern,” a voice chirps up from one of the couches, “I don’t think you’re his type.”

“Fuck off, Pearl.” Bernie pouts, Hiroto now acknowledging another name to a familiar face. “I’m everyone’s type.”

“No, you’re not.” The voice is much quieter than the others and lacking the energetic intonations. When Hiroto stares in the direction of the speaker, he struggles to place them. He’s certain he’s seen their face before, though he just can’t remember where. As though knowing he was struggling, they speak.

“Ryu. I attacked Smokey with a sword and you punched me in the face.” He says simply, elegantly swiping some of his dark hair out of his face.

Hiroto can’t help but laugh, loudly. He’s not sure when the last time he properly laughed was, but he can’t really help it. Now, the mental image of this Ryu rolling his jaw after Hiroto had managed to knock him square in it is all he can see in his head and its oddly hilarious. Behind his dark hair, Ryu smiles, only a small upturn of his mouth but Hiroto sees the way his eyes twinkle. It’s hardly any wonder Hiroto struggled to recognise him. Whilst he was maybe worth a glance before, now he’s hard to look away from.

“Yeah. I remember.” He replies, staring down at his lap and chuckling softly.

“Y’know, you’re really pretty up close!” Bernie whines, staring directly at Hiroto’s face.

“Bern.” Ice’s voice is amused, but Hiroto can tell he’s just trying to indicate to Bernie that maybe he might not be open to such advances or initiation of physical contact. So, in an attempt to take a step forward, he just pats Bernie’s knee and offers him a bemused look. Bernie seems delighted, standing up and rushing over to Pearl, flopping onto his lap and whispering into his ear and occasionally looking back at Hiroto.

Ice shuffles closer to Hiroto, arm over the back of the couch. He seems completely relaxed and in his zone, nodding his head along with the music thumping from below them in the club, closing his eyes every once in a while to mouth along with the words. The entire situation should be more bizarre to Hiroto than it is, yet he can’t find a problem with it. A break in routine seems to be exactly what he needs and the people here aren’t half as bad as he might have presumed them to be. He takes the time to glance around the room at all these people, all of Ice’s friends, wondering how such a large group can stay so close. The only woman in the room, quiet until now, stands up and walks over to Ice, sitting by his side.

“This is Sarah.” Ice stares at her so fondly it’s not hard for Hiroto to imagine just how much he loves her and even though she seems relatively stoic faced, her eyes soften considerably and she puts a hand on his thigh. “I wouldn’t try drinking with her if I were you, though, man.”

The thought of drinking competitions makes Hiroto’s mind drift to the days back when he and Masaki would just line up bottles of beer and see who’d pass out first. Masaki usually prevailed purely because Hiroto’s head became too heavy for him to remain awake, though Hiroto was convinced he used to pour some into the plant pot beside the table, especially when the plant started reeking of a weird odour and dying.

“I don’t think I’m _that_ stupid, but thanks.” Hiroto replies, Ice laughing delightedly.

The night pushes on and he’s handed various drinks by each of them, engaging in completely different conversations with each of them. Bernie talks to him about computers and hacking, even though Hiroto doesn’t understand any of it he nods along anyway which seems to make Bernie happy. Pearl talks to him about music, asking Hiroto’s opinion on certain lyrics and looking overjoyed when Hiroto offers some alternative words for him, continuing on his way with a happy ‘thanks bro’. Ice is content to lazily discuss motorcycles, telling Hiroto that he has one but doesn’t use it much, having few places to really go on it. When Hiroto recommends a journey perfect for long bike rides, Ice tells him that he’ll have to take him one day. Sarah is quiet but offers the occasional opinion, which Hiroto appreciates.

Ryu, however, is the revelation. The more Hiroto talks to him the more he realises that it is definitely Ryu that Ice was comparing him to. Rather stone faced, closed off and snarky. Yet once Hiroto spoke to him, he became more animated, making sarcastic jokes and telling Hiroto stories about the Mighty Warriors’ less successful ventures, such as the time when they pulled up to a job that had been scouted for them and barged into what was actually a senior politicians birthday gathering. Though his smile doesn’t always reach his eyes, he looks younger and happier when talking about the others and Hiroto wonders if one day he’ll be the same, if he’ll be more at ease because he’s got people around him willing to give him the benefit of the doubt and just love him unconditionally.

It’s like the alcohol catches up with him all at once though, his eyes drooping, head leaning on the back of the couch. He knows he should probably move but now he’s aware he’s drank far too much to get on his bike. Hiroto is vaguely aware of people moving around him and then he’s hoisted up between Ryu and Ice, one of his arms over each of their shoulders as they make their way down the corridor. When Hiroto tries to protest, Ryu shushes him firmly, so he just lets himself be carted into an empty room. When he’s placed on the bed he wants to just lie face down, but Ice takes his jacket off him gently and Ryu takes his shoes off, both manoeuvring the blanket over him. Hiroto is overwhelmed so suddenly that he barely knows he’s crying before he is, small choking sobs escaping before he can hide his face. Ice is by his side first.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he whispers softly, moving Hiroto up into his arms and holding him tightly, “what’s wrong?”

“I just-,” Hiroto sniffles, keeping his head tucked near Ice’s neck, not wanting to see the face of someone who’s invited him into their home only to have to deal with them crying all over him a few hours later.

“You’re lonely.” Ryu states, sitting on his other side. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

His hand is delicate on Hiroto’s back, rubbing small circles on it, Ice remaining still whilst Hiroto lets out the remainder of his tears, shaking.

“We can stay with you, if you’d like.” Ryu offers, giving Hiroto a reassuring smile, Ice nodding.

“Please.” Hiroto whispers, still unable to look at them both properly.

They all have to move around multiple times until they’re comfortable, with Ryu being the most fidgety one of the three, having to find a suitable position for himself above everyone else. Ice settles down relatively quickly, locking an arm around Hiroto’s waist, scooting up behind him. Ryu finally just tucks himself up in the space beside Hiroto, moving Hiroto’s arm over his own and going still.

Perhaps he’s made some friends after all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hiroto spends the morning with the Mighty Warriors over breakfast.

The dull ache in Hiroto’s head is the first thing to drag him out of a deep sleep, aware that his head is pounding and his mouth is dry. He’s vaguely aware of someone lying beside him, their snoring is soft and they are relatively still. When Hiroto’s eyes eventually open fully, he can see Ryu curled up beside him, his mouth slightly open and his hair tangled around his face. Hiroto’s fingers move out of their own volition, brushing the hair back gently away from his face. Ryu barely moves other than to push his face further into the pillow with a slight grumble. Ice is nowhere to be seen, the other side of the bed vacant. The more Hiroto thinks about last night, the more his cheeks burn.

 _I’ve embarrassed myself._ He thinks. _I could’ve made a good impression but I’ve embarrassed myself._

Although he feels like a child thinking it, he vaguely wishes Masaki were here to tell him what to do. Masaki had always been Hiroto’s lighthouse, there to guide him out of tremulous tides. It is at times like these he wishes he had Masaki’s cavalier attitude, being able to roll with any situation without overthinking every aspect. So in an attempt to channel his inner Masaki, Hiroto rolls out of the bed and stares at himself in the mirror, thankful his hair is shorter so can handle looking messy without seeming completely horrible. His shirt is wrinkled from sleeping in it, but other than that he’s as presentable as he’s going to get. His hand closes around the door-handle, so he stops and tries to calm his nerves before exiting the room. The walk is a quiet one, the corridor stretching down past multiple rooms before there is a sharp corner leading to a kitchen. It’s large, which is a good job considering how occupied it currently is.

“Hiroto!” Bernie jumps up from his seat at the table, bounding over and coming to an abrupt stop in front of Hiroto. “Morning!”

“Erm. Morning.” Hiroto curses himself for pausing, not that Bernie seems bothered, unused to having to even talk in the morning, let alone with such a raging hangover.

“Shit, man,” Ice’s voice comes from the other side of the kitchen, standing beside the coffee machine, “think you drank more than all of us combined last night.”

Hiroto wants the ground to swallow him up whole **now**. What kind of person makes this their first impression? Drinking so excessively you have to be dragged to a room to sleep it out, only to break down into hysterics. Worse still, he could’ve crept out and got on his bike right away but instead he came into the kitchen and now has to suffer the humiliation of everyone seeing him after all of it.

“Here you go, bro.” Pearl throws a bottle of water at him and Hiroto is thankful that his reflexes are still with him, catching it quickly and giving Pearl a small nod of thanks. He can barely contain himself, taking the lid off and gulping all of the water down, relief spreading through him at the soothing of his dry throat. As soon as he finishes the entire bottle, Hiroto becomes aware of a new pair of eyes staring right at him so ferociously, he wonders what he could have possibly done to elicit such a reaction.

“Wow,” he grins, his eyes running up and down Hiroto multiple times before stopping on his face. His hair is perfectly styled, matched with an obnoxious floral print button up with a small gold chain around his neck. Hiroto could just tell he was probably going to be a pain, reminded somewhat of Masaki when he’s in the presence of multiple women. “All you needed for that little number was to have your shirt off.”

Ice snorts out some of the coffee he’d been drinking, Sarah shooting him an unimpressed look, standing up and getting a small towel to wipe him down with. A couple that Hiroto vaguely recognises, Diddy and Dixie, he thinks, both giggle to each other and begin talking in hushed tones. Bernie laughs so loudly that Pearl has to cover his ears, almost falling back off his chair.

“Fuckin’ hell, Bern,” Pearl whines, latching his arms around Bernie’s waist and resting his head on Bernie’s shoulder, pouting, “gimme a warning next time.”

“Sorry!” He giggles, staring at Hiroto once more before bursting out into laughter again. “That’s Brown.”

He motions towards the stranger who seems to have a very smug expression on his face, although he doesn’t seem particularly malicious about any of it. He pats the only free seat that’s beside him and Hiroto can find no polite reason to refuse, so he sits quietly. All of the inhabitants of the kitchen seem to have their own routine and wavelength in the mornings. Ice and Sarah stand facing each other, Sarah still wiping at Ice’s chin and although he swats her hand away, he has a huge grin on his face. Diddy and Dixie are both sharing a small plate of pancakes, occasionally putting food in the others mouth with looks of utter adoration. Pearl and Bernie are excitable as usual, Bernie humming what Hiroto can only assume is a new track with Pearl improvising. When Pearl seems to nail a verse, Bernie lets out an excited cheer and starts scribbling in a notebook frantically. Brown, however, can’t seem to avert his gaze from Hiroto. Even when Ice casually places a cup of black coffee in front of Hiroto, he continues to stare unashamedly.

“What brought you here, anyway? You don’t really seem like the club type.” He finally speaks, sipping his own coffee but maintaining eye-contact.

“Circumstance, I guess.” Hiroto replies, averting his gaze and staring down at his cup, fidgeting a little. It’s weird in a way, for Hiroto to experience such open interest. Whilst he’s not ignorant to the fact people find him attractive, people tend to instantly avoid him after speaking to him, turned off by the snarky and quiet behaviour. Men in particular seemed to assume this meant he wanted to skip straight to sex, which irked Hiroto to no end, being viewed as obtainable for one thing by men and as only worth looking at but not talking to by women.

“I get that.” Brown replies, giving him a lopsided grin, running his fingers through his hair, although it still maintains perfect curls. “Though I can’t really say we have identical circumstances.”

“Yeah, I gathered that.” Instead of shooting him an annoyed or irritated glance for his sarcastic tone, Brown laughs, throwing his head back and then giving Hiroto an amused stare, before patting his knee. The touch is soft and it is brief, Brown keeping eye contact with Hiroto and for a moment Hiroto is taken back by the concept that Brown is testing to see if this level of contact is fine. So he just gives him a barely evident smile before gulping down more coffee. Brown’s eyes seem to twinkle with all kinds of mischief, his grin showing more teeth this time.

“Man, I wouldn’t if I were you.” Ice laughs from behind Hiroto, walking past him to pick up Bernie’s notebook. “You wouldn’t be the first person to break somethin’ fallin’ for our guy, Brown, here.”

Hiroto barely stops himself from choking on the coffee, only just managing to swallow it in time. He can tell that Brown noticed his slip up though by the way he chuckles softly to himself, Ice patting Hiroto on the back on his way back over to Sarah, laughing himself. Hiroto thinks he ought to have a word with Ice about perhaps having more tact in situations like this, but he’s also aware Ice probably doesn’t even know what tact is.

“Where’s Ryu?” Diddy questions, staring over at Ice in between taking mouthfuls of food Dixie is feeding him.

“Still sleepin’, you know how he gets now when he’s home. Doesn’t get much rest at Kuryu.” Ice replies, frowning slightly.

Hiroto had never really thought much about the remnants of the Kuryu group, considering its numbers had dropped substantially and it was no longer a direct threat to the sword region. Hiroto finds it hard to place the man who helped him out of his shoes and into bed last night in the Kuryu group, telling him that it was okay to feel lonely. He wonders briefly if Ryu feels lonely when he’s not here, though he thinks he knows the answer if Ryu is so comfortable here he sleeps for longer and Ice refers to this as his home, not Kuryu. As if right on cue, Ryu shuffles into the kitchen. His hair is obscuring his face and he’s now wearing a comfortable big black jumper and jeans. Ice instantly hands him over some coffee, Ryu mumbling a response and sitting down when Bernie jumps up to give away his own seat. Hiroto wonders if they’ve always had this close level of companionship or if it took a long time to get here.

“So,” Brown shuffles his chair closer to Hiroto, everyone else seemingly engaging in their own respective conversations, “are you free sometime next week?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Hiroto replies, trying to ignore the dryness in his throat and the way the butterflies begin to hurry around his stomach, wondering when the last time someone asked him out was. The fact he struggles tells him that it’s been too long.

“Well, I’m gonna take you out. Can’t promise that it’ll be anywhere fancy, but y’know. Thought that counts and all.” Brown smiles, moving some of Hiroto’s hair from his face with nimble fingers that linger on his cheek for a few seconds. “Get to know each other a little better.”

“Are you sure you want me to know you better?” Hiroto asks, Brown’s face flickering for a second before Hiroto smiles. It’s barely a smile by the average persons standard, but it’s all Hiroto can really manage and when Brown grins back at him Hiroto thinks that maybe, even if it doesn’t go anywhere in the romantic sense, he may have made a good friend regardless. None of them seem to be the type that would get hung up on that kind of thing.

“I think you might like me more than you’d expect.” Brown drinks the last of his coffee, standing up and strolling around the table to put his cup in the sink. He takes the notebook out of Ice’s hand and rips a corner off, snatching the pen without asking and writing something before giving the pen back to a bemused Ice.

“Here. Text me when you’re free.” He puts the small piece of paper down and gives Hiroto a wink before strolling out, shouting goodbye to everyone on the way.

“Hm. Didn’t think Brown would be your type.” Ryu muses, Hiroto almost falling out of his seat when he realises how fast Ryu had moved to the seat beside him now it was vacant.

“Yeah, man, if I’d have known that _that_ was your type I’d have been more sympathetic.” Ice cackles, Ryu smiling as well.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Hiroto huffs, folding his arms and looking away.

“Well, we’ve got conflicted loyalties here,” Pearl begins, Bernie finishing his sentence, “but if he upsets you I’m sure we can find I way to passive-aggressively retaliate.”

Thankfully this time Hiroto isn’t drunk so he can pull his shit together, but it doesn’t stop him from feeling oddly fuzzy and safe inside, wondering how these people who he’d been fighting against not that long ago have accepted him so easily as not just an acquaintance, but a possible friend. When his phone vibrates, he’s almost slightly upset at the thought of having to leave when Masaki’s name pops up on the screen, asking where he is. As though knowing he has to leave, Ryu pats his hand gently and gives him a nod.

“Don’t forget your shoes and coat in Ice’s room. Third door on the left.” He says, patting Hiroto on the back when he stands. All the others start saying goodbye, Ice patting his shoulder.

“Come back anytime, man.” He walks with Hiroto all the way back to the room to pick up his stuff and get properly dressed, following him all the way back outside to his bike.

“Thanks.” Hiroto’s voice is quiet and he wishes he could say more, but Ice nods like he knows Hiroto means it as more than just a general thank you.

“Like I said, you’re welcome back anytime.”

Perhaps his social life wasn’t so piss poor after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, an odd group but I couldn't shake the image from my head. Hopefully people enjoy.

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, I have no idea how or why I came up with this but it's here anyway, so. It could possibly warrant another chapter but I've yet to decide.


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